Answer in the Sky
by Glory1863
Summary: Shran contemplates past disappointments and future possibilities. This is set at the end of the episode The Aenar and contains spoilers for Babel One, United and The Aenar. The song Answer in the Sky belongs to Sir Elton John and Bernie Taupin.


Answer in the Sky

**Well they say that it's a fact**

**If you watch the sky at night**

**And if you stare into the darkness**

**You might see celestial light**

**And if you heart is empty**

**And there's no hope inside**

**There's a chance you'll find an answer in the sky**

Thy'lek Shran of the Andorian Imperial Guard sat alone in the dimly lit mess hall of the starship _Enterprise_ at an ungodly hour of what the ship considered early morning and stared into the expanse of space visible from the window in the bulkhead. On the table before him were an empty glass and a nearly empty bottle of Andorian ale that had been full only the evening before. If he was looking for light or answers, he certainly wasn't finding them in alcohol. All he had to show for a night of serious drinking was a blinding headache and the inability to walk a straight line. Come to think of it, though, he'd started the night out that way too, courtesy of the severed left antenna he had received in the _Ushaan_ duel with Captain Archer. Gods, what a waste!

As he watched the stars pass, he acknowledged to himself that what he really wanted was oblivion. He wanted to forget so many things, if only for awhile.

He wanted to forget his ship, the powerful and elegant battle cruiser _Kumari_. More to the point, he wanted to forget that it was no longer powerful or elegant, that it was no longer his to command, that it was no longer anything at all save space debris and a painful memory that haunted him.

He wanted to forget the crew he had lost, that second family that he had always promised himself he would bring safely home to Andoria. A promise, though never spoken, that he knew they had relied upon him to keep. He dreaded the "Ceremonies of Remembrance" he would have to attend, all the sad, angry, accusatory eyes silently asking, "Why are you here and they are not? Why did you not take better care of them? It was your duty as commander!" Eyes he knew he would see in his dreams for the rest of his life. Questioning eyes for which he had no answers.

Gods, how he wanted to forget Talas! Beautiful, bold, passionate, warm, loving, alive Talas. Beautiful, silent, still, cold as ice, dead Talas. He didn't know which memory seared his soul more.

He wanted to forget the _Ushaan_ duel with Archer. How could he not attempt to avenge Talas, but how had he thought he could do so by losing – by killing with his own hand – yet another friend? The _Ushaan_ had been honorably concluded, but would Talas consider herself avenged or had he disappointed her too? Had he lost because he had really wanted to die himself? And if he had died, would death have been the deeply peaceful rest he sought or something else entirely? What had the ancient Earth playwright said – "To sleep, perchance to dream . . ."?

He wanted to forget the fear of returning home and the fear of losing his career, fears he had never known before. He loved Andoria to the full extent of the passion that was the hallmark of his people. What other place could ever feel like home to him? What else could he do at this stage in his life? He had always been a soldier, had never considered being anything else from the day his family had been informed of his brother's death in a fight against the Vulcans.

So many questions, but there weren't any answers to be had anywhere, and even with the light from the stars, everything seemed dark.

**Well they say that it's a shame**

**If you have nothing to believe**

**And if you can't hold on to something**

**You might as well die where your sleep**

**You don't need a prayer**

**And there's no price to ask why**

**Sometimes you'll find an answer in the sky**

He poured out the last of the Andorian ale and tossed the shot back in a single swallow. Did he even know what he believed any more? He'd always been a soldier, had always been willing to fight, and had been good at it too – at least until recently. Now he was just bone tired – tired of fighting, tired of hiding the fear, tired of sending good comrades to die. For what? The enemies you didn't annihilate just kept coming back for more - like the Vulcans and the Orions. Even if you did annihilate them, there were always new ones to take their place - like the Romulans. Did it have to go on like this forever?

He'd hated the Vulcans for killing his brother, and had killed many of them in turn, but for some reason he had developed a grudging respect for Soval and had felt vaguely dishonored by torturing him under orders. He had hoped that Soval had understood that it was business, nothing personal, and perhaps he had because they had been able to negotiate since. It wasn't easy, but was anything really worthwhile ever easily attained?

He had even been able to work with the Tellarite ambassador Gral. Archer had honored the tradition of the _Ushaan_, and he – Shran – had lost, so it had been time to just get on with things. Surprisingly, Gral had had the sense – sensitivity (?) – to keep his aide Naarg, the one who had actually killed Talas, out of the room. The trade talks were successfully concluded and the groundwork laid for an alliance between Andoria and Tellar in the face of the Romulan threat. You just had to realize that not everything that came from a Tellarite's mouth and sounded like an insult actually was one, though it was often hard to tell.

He sighed deeply. With his elbows resting on the table, he put his head in his hands and massaged his temples in an effort to ease his pounding headache. Revenge, he thought, what did it really achieve except to feed on itself and grow? He had killed Vulcans, but his brother was still dead. If he had been allowed to kill Naarg, Talas would still be dead. If he had killed Archer, then a friend would have died as well. It wasn't fair to blame his actions on his brother, on Talas or even on Archer. He had wanted to preserve what little, as he believed, remained of his honor – but what kind of honor kills a friend? He had told himself that revenge would ease his unremitting pain. If he had been honest with himself, he would have known better. His brother had been dead for years, but his soul still ached for him as he imagined it would always ache for Talas. Was there no answer, no end to that either?

**And it's all so much bigger than it seems**

**And it all overwhelms us now and then**

**And I'm banking on a chance we believe**

**That good can still control the hearts of men**

**Sometimes you'll find an answer in the sky**

He looked out at the passing star field again. As the wise man had said, "Space is vast; allies are few." There was talk of a coalition, a federation, of planets. Was this something he could work toward, either on or off Andoria? Could he be a diplomat? Within the Imperial Guard, he had always been considered to have a way with people. He believed that successful command was really the ability to influence, persuade and lead his crew. To do that, he had had to take the time to understand them. He had had to gain their trust and respect. Intimidation had its place, but it only went so far. Better to treat your people fairly, increase their skills and give them a sense of pride and worth. Could this mind-set, these skills, transfer from the military to the diplomatic arena? If was certainly satisfying to achieve one's goals without facing death oneself or asking others to take that risk. He suspected that the more difficult the negotiation, the more satisfying the achievement.

**This life's a long old road**

**We shouldn't have to walk alone**

**But if you find the right companion**

**You won't feel so worn out when you've grown**

"Thy'lek?" Her soft voice startled him. He had been so deep in thought that he had not heard her come in, had not heard her the first time she had said his name. "Please forgive me. I do not wish to intrude, but may I join you? I have been thinking about my late brother and find it difficult to sleep. The Earth people are friendly and kind, but I would prefer to be with you - that is, if you would not mind?"

"An honor to be of service, Jhamel," he said automatically. It was a standard phrase he had learned at the Military Academy years ago, but that did not make it untrue. He rose politely to help her to a chair but suddenly felt dizzy. Although she could not see him, she sensed his distress, placed her hand lightly on his arm to steady him and then quickly removed it when she sensed he had regained his equilibrium.

They sat in silence for some while. He looked at her intently. Talas had been conventionally beautiful, but Jhamel, with her pale white skin and long, elaborately braided white hair, was exotically so. Talas had been bold, daring, somewhat unconventional and fiery, things he had truly appreciated about her. Jhamel was timid in comparison, quiet, serene and innately polite. She was so young, so trusting and seemed so fragile. It surprised him that he actually found those qualities appealing. It also surprised him that he could easily kill anyone who harmed her, although he suspected she would never ask him to do so or approve if he did. Upon further reflection, he realized that he hadn't really given her her due. She had a more subtle form of daring than Talas, a hidden core of bravery that was probably greater than his own and a deep sense of honor. He smiled to himself at the memory. To satisfy her curiosity, had she not broken the cardinal rule of her people and read his thoughts without his permission? Had she not, despite her fear of his reaction, then come to apologize for something he would never have known she'd done if she'd never said? Had she not gone off-world, something her people rarely did, under the protection of a man she had only just met and a type of person she had probably been taught to fear? Was she not on a ship full of "pinkskins", beings about whom she knew nothing? Had she not used the telepresence unit, not once, but twice, despite the pain she knew it would cause her, and saved them all? He had been deadly serious when he had told her that even though he was a commander in the Imperial Guard, he would not have gone near that thing.

"Thy'lek, if one may ask, what will happen when you get home?" He heard the deep concern in her voice.

"The Imperial Guard is not impressed by a commander who loses his ship and most of his crew. I doubt I shall be given another. I could be court-martialed and broken in rank or cashiered," he said in what he hoped was a matter-of-fact tone.

"They will not - hurt you?" The hesitation and the tone of her voice clearly indicated to him that she meant a great deal more than "hurt."

"Don't worry, Jhamel, they won't execute me. I'd have to lose a whole fleet to warrant that." He had tried to say it lightly, but it was clear from her posture that her concern had not diminished.

"Again, if one may ask, if you are – cashiered - what will you do?"

"I don't know, Jhamel. It's what I was thinking about when you came in. I've been a soldier all my life. I don't know how to be anything else."

Perhaps it was just the dim light from the stars, but he thought her face had turned just the palest shade of blue as she lowered her head, inclined it toward him and said softly, "You would be welcome in the Aenar city." She had then asked him to escort her back to her quarters. They were at some distance from the mess hall, and she was not certain she could remember the way.

That decided it for him. Jhamel was like an ornate, well-tempered, steel blade wrapped in the finest Andorian silk. If he were to tell her, would she take it for the high compliment that he, as an Andorian military man, meant it to be or would she, as a pacifistic Aenar, be deeply insulted to be compared to a weapon? That was the one question, of all he had raised that night, which he intended to have answered.

**All life is precious**

**And every day's a prize**

**And sometimes you'll find an answer in the sky.**


End file.
